


The Dogs of Winter

by joethelion



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Abby Griffin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/F, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Raven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joethelion/pseuds/joethelion
Summary: “Taste me,” Abby says simply, holding her wrist out. "It'll help with your heat. All you need is a taste."Raven looks at her, panicked.“That's the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”





	The Dogs of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an Omegaverse prompt set in a bookstore because y'all need Jesus.

“She needs me to do what now?” Raven mumbles from around a piece of wire in her mouth while she solders a reconstructed motherboard. She glances at her phone’s screen where Clarke’s lovely eyes stare at her, half-asleep and full of slightly exasperated affection.

Clarke shrugs, “Lexa and I are away for a week and Mom wants repairs done on the whole wiring system at the bookstore.” 

“Abby is watching the store? How did she get any time…“ 

“Lexa got everyone to agree on a rotating schedule. Mom’s on call for a couple of days and she can be there and Lexa is magic so…”

“Wow. Abby agreed?”

“Mom’s been known to agree to things once in a while. Lexa also has mad baking skills.”

“Oh my god. I know. So what do I get?”

“Oatmeal cookies forever, babe.”

* * *

Raven always conveniently forgets how gorgeous Abby Griffin is. It’s a self-preservation thing. 

She shivers when Abby looks up from going through a large stack of medical case files, welcoming and distracted.

Abby’s scent is clean, strong and sharp. Stronger than anyone else Raven knows. Waves of easy, lived in power emanate from her and Raven, able to absorb most primal energies of this caliber, actually sways and has to lower her eyes in slight irritation before meeting Abby’s gaze—now all subtle amusement—head on. She’s careful not to challenge and fixates on a point just over Abby’s shoulder.

Abby studies her. This reaction is unusual. Raven is strong, impartial to Alphas, with no use for dominance or any other kind of bullshit. Raven can be real fucking weird about any perceived slight to her autonomy but is always surprisingly polite to overeager, untrained Alphas. It’s sort of hilarious to see the confusion from people who don’t know her. She presents as Omega and is as unnerving and rare as their kind can be, almost otherworldly. Until she smiles.

Abby’s only seen it once before, in Lexa. Anyone with an ounce of sense knows that there’s nothing more fluid or seductive about Lexa and Raven than their desires and how they manifest. Omegas are strange creatures. This one is also arrogant, heartbreaking, kind, infuriating and decidedly not submissive.

Raven's shuttered herself. She's seen Abby’s unintended effect on too many people to be comfortable with her own response. It’s an annoyance, unwanted since she knows that Abby made very, very sure that her call is for the most part muted and under control—for everyone’s sake.

Abby  _can_  wield it with devastating effect when she wants to, but after one unfortunate incident when she was younger (she sent an entire auditorium of people and everybody watching at home into a spontaneous mating frenzy) she makes sure she keeps it low-key. No use sending the entire western hemisphere into heat.

Raven's instincts are not to breed. She tolerates her heats and makes very sure to protect herself from any unwanted advances—Alphas tend to be obnoxiously prone to Shakespearean levels of dramatics. She wanted to kick Bellamy’s ass into next week when he became outright possessive after swearing up and down he wasn’t that kind of dude. Finn was just sweet and loved her and they’d known each other since they were kids—they were family. Wick and Raven would laugh about everything and handle their appetites in the most relaxed manner possible, which is to say, they never talk about anything. Wick tries.

Raven is a rarity within the normal structures of their species’ particular evolution—she is a once in two or three generations anomaly, outside instinct by choice, freed of her own body and hormonal privation. Preternatural enough, and young enough to make that particular decision for herself when she’d seen what suppressants and a breeding addiction had done to her mother. She saw her mother succumb to an epidemic of sexual reproduction, hormonal imbalance sicknesses, and cravings and refuses it for herself. It's interesting to Abby that there are two so much alike in this generation. Lexa took them all by surprise.

This was her  _being_ , a philosophy of the sublime, of the stars—equations and math and physics and mechanics—nothing of the earth, or the pack—nothing of the clear, obliterating call of home and completion in another.

Raven shifts on the balls of her feet, unsettled and irritable. She says hello with a more clipped tone than she usually uses with Abby—a more impatient tone than anyone  _dares_ use with Abby. “You needed work done?” 

Abby frowns slightly. Raven looks a little stricken, then colossally bored and then shuts up abruptly.

Raven isn’t broadcasting _anything_. Neutral, nonexistent. 

“Clarke told you? Great. The place needs upgrading—electrical, shelving. Whatever you can do in—I want it done before the week is out.”

Abby repeats herself when Raven just stares blankly. She leans away, draping a long arm across the back of the chair and regards her, a little concerned. “You alright there?”

“Perfect.” Raven nods. And then shifts her bag to her other shoulder and strides past Abby without looking at her. What the hell. 

Struck by a strong wave of ...  _nothing_ , Abby subtly probes Raven and the other customers and finds Raven to be the only one inexplicably and powerfully shielded. It’s more than fascinating to her. Because, science reasons. 

Abby rumbles low in her chest and lets out a short, particularly strong pheromone signature. A woman over in the Self-Help section stumbles and falls over with a shriek. Everyone else looks dazed and fucked up immediately.

Abby swings around and checks out Raven’s reaction. Nothing. She’s calmly laying out tools and changing the batteries on her mag-light.

* * *

Raven is anything  _but_  fine. She hasn’t been fine since the first time she met Abby.

The effect was immediate and insane. Abby introduced herself and Raven went into a debilitating heat so fast she almost passed out.

That kind of powerful hormonal shift happened in early adolescence—Raven was in her twenties—far too old to behave like a crazed, heat-frenzied teenager. 

Abby held her hand a few moments longer than was strictly polite between strangers. It was innocent, not a show of primacy. She had looked dazed, off-balance, and Raven had literally, embarrassingly, swooned.

And Abby had an adorable, goofy, perplexed little smile on her face—a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and hunger—before she caught herself and took her hand back.

* * *

And fuck her life, because it's happening again, right now. Raven catches herself whining deep her throat—a thin sheen of sex pheromones coating her skin. She's trembling. Her vision clouds and her breath comes in shallow gasps. The empty ache in her chest and between her legs make her eyes glitter with impotent, unshed tears.

Abby appeals to Raven in ways that are so blatantly obvious to her therapist that she's fucking annoying and stops sessions and collapses in hysterical laughter. It's just Abby's, well, _everything_. Raven remembers saying that once because what even are words and then she just stared at the wall blushing furiously.

Abby’s mate, Jake, died—something unthinkable—the despair and excruciating void at the core of her would have destroyed anyone less. Half of her heart stopped beating; she grew wan with grief, she stopped eating. She went mute.

She had barely managed in the face of exhaustion and despair—had only managed anything for Clarke—and there was a cold fire in her eyes that warred continuously with her warmth.

She was Jake’s. Jake was hers. Abby had no idea how she survived.

She’d just simply closed the book of herself, put it back on a high and invisible shelf, and got on with her life—saving anyone she could.

Abby, to Raven, is an unknown, and she burns in her presence and seeks her out and hates herself for doing it.

* * *

This was not fair. This was inconvenient. And unwanted. She was betraying herself every minute she stayed in Abby's presence, piecing together a storm of narrative and mirage about what  _could be_  between them despite her fierce defenses and Abby’s obvious disinterest.

She wasn’t an idiot. Their kind mated for life. It had already happened for Abby.

Abby, despite her physiology, despite her wild nature, despite her instinctual needs—remained as remote and as clear-minded as an apex predator and remained just as untouchable. She presented as mated.

So this thing, this thing that was happening to her right now. This riot of sensation and pleasure singing along every nerve of her body and soul—absolutely fucking not. 

She fumbles for the suppressants and hopes to God she can keep breathing.

* * *

Abby is standing over her before Raven even sees her move.

“Taste me,” Abby says simply, holding her wrist out. "It'll help with your heat. All you need is a taste."

Raven looks at her, panicked.

“That's the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Abby steps closer, and Raven lets out a soft growl. Abby almost laughs—Raven is challenging her. Not even Jake had ever done that. 

“Your heat is rising. I can help.”

“Abby. Go away.” 

Abby doesn’t move. She just leans in and runs her tongue from the hollow of Raven's throat to the edge of her jaw, and then holds herself there. Raven moans softly.

“How long has it been, Raven.”

“Two days ago.” Raven bites out.

“No. Try again.” Abby says, raising her eyebrows.

Raven threads her fingers through Abby’s hair and with surprising gentleness pulls her head away.

She stares at her; her eyes burning with a secret, rare grasp of the absurdities of their kind’s physical and emotional needs—of the ridiculous hierarchies and posturing.

Abby’s blood surges when she sees it. She loves this about Raven. She sends up a fervent prayer to Jake, a friendlier human than he was an animal. She asks him to let her go. There is no one else who can look at her like this. No one has ever dared. That's something

In response, she places her warm lips against Raven’s ear. “You haven’t fucked anyone in months. Let me. I can help you.”

A mist of rough, protective and claiming Alpha pheromones mixes with her own flickering, erratic call and floods her center—it overwhelms Raven and she stumbles. Abby’s arm around her waist stops her; a hand comes up and cups her chin. Abby’s telegraphing at her lowest ebb, it’s nearly unconscious. It’s powerful even like that, unrelenting. 

“It’s a biological imperative,” Raven repeats tonelessly, her eyes flattening. The muscles in her jaw twitch violently, and for an awful, thrilling few seconds, Abby thinks she might get hit in the face.

Abby barely understands what she’s doing; this was only mildly weird up until just this second. Even with years of honing her instinctual impulses, she’s playing with fire here and she knows it.

She edges her thigh between Raven’s legs and Raven stiffens, her head falling back into the wall behind her, cursing softly.

Abby's eyes flash with something Raven’s truly terrified of right before Abby visibly gets herself under some kind of control and breathes softly and evenly, freeing her from what can only be described as a brief thrall, "Raven. I’m—Jesus—I’m sorry. I can feel you… I'm sorry. Let’s start over, okay?”

The confusion and quiet alarm in Abby’s voice is what sets Raven off in a fury. Abby watches her carefully.

“I was out of line." 

“We’re _friends_ , Abby.” 

Raven gently disengages from Abby’s hands, which have ended up on her chest, and places them at Abby’s side.

“We’re friends,” she says again so quietly only Abby’s enhanced hearing picks it up.

Raven’s scent is exhilarating and startling. Like the vastness that surrounds light and thermonuclear fusion interspersed in the vacuum. She also carries an undernote of pine and cold moonlight.

Abby straightens, "Of course, yes.”

And then before Raven can stop herself, “No, we're not friends."

Abby actually looks embarrassed and hurt. "Raven, I—"

"I don’t want you.” Raven pauses and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, Abby. You know better. You're fascinating. I need a beer. It’s so hot back here. Can you get me a beer? Do you want one—?"

Abby just nods. Her shirt is damp and it  _is_ stifling in this small godawful closet. 

Then Abby looks at her so nakedly Raven feels gut-punched. Raven thinks that Abby is going to force the issue or worse, embrace her. And she has no idea how she will handle that.

Instead, Abby roils up her sleeve and puts her arm forward and draws it in a slow arc across Raven’s cheek and neck and her skin erupts in fire, even with the strong drugs coursing through her veins.

Abby tilts her head, “Your mother loved those suppressants a little too much, Raven. Be careful.”

Raven can feel Abby’s touch, and her magnetic pull and her sweet sheen of sweat like blood left from a blade.

“I’ll get you that beer. You need anything else?”

Raven doesn't look away. "No, nothing else."

Abby almost doubles over when she gets back to the front of the store because God,  _it hurts_.

* * *

The last time Raven and Wick fucked, she rolled off of him and sat up, expecting him to leave her alone or make her laugh or something. She wasn’t normal, not with her leg, not with her skewed instincts, not with her secrets and not with the dull throb of an evened out, blissfully dulled sex drive.

Nothing about her was normal.

She picks up a pillow and places it on her lap, raking her hand irritably through her hair. She’s barely sated. This is how things need to be for her. She won’t be hurt, and she won’t be belittled or pitied for the state of her leg—any perceived disadvantages are quickly shelved when she’s in bed. With anyone. And there’s a guaranteed suffocation of any part of her that might break free.

Wick usually knows this. Today he’s being petulant—or even more awful and embarrassing— he’s acting like he cares. “You should talk about it.”

Raven ignores him.

“How long has it lasted this time? Longer than usual, yeah?” It’s a rhetorical question. Raven and Wick have been in bed together on and off for approximately a week.

“Raven, you’re going to hurt something.” His eyes spark with sardonic mirth and she swings at him and lands hard just under his eye. “Ow.  _Fuck_ , Raven. I didn’t mean—“

He grabs her wrist before she can twist away. “Nothing will keep you away from her. You know that. Nothing. If you’re called, you’re called. That’s it.”

Raven does know that. No one is exempt from instinct.

And she lists her wounds to herself, all of them, emotional and physical. She catalogs them—all her scars and losses. She leaves Wick immediately, wiping herself clean with his sheets and not even bothering to shower.

When she gets home she watches the new crop of bruises splay across her skin. Wick’s uncomfortable with what she asks of him, what she needs more and more of to feel anything at all.

* * *

Her hunger is something she disavowed as soon as her mother died, as soon as Finn turned into an idiot and fell desperately in love with Clarke.

She’d opened the cabin door and saw his stupid, mild Beta face—sadness and confusion written all over him like a heat signature—and Clarke leaning unconcerned against the bedroom door and looking at her, never at Finn.

And she’d laughed at him. No one and nothing would keep Clarke from who she was, and who she wanted. And it wasn’t Finn.

Clarke and Raven had gathered his clothes and sent him out into the snowstorm to drive to the city alone. Raven had managed to stay angry with Clarke for a full twenty minutes and then sighed into her spiked and delicious hot chocolate and laughed.

“Was it everything you wanted, Princess?”

Clarke had giggled so hard she snorted her drink practically up her nose.

“Thought so,” Raven hid her smile behind the rim of her mug.

Clarke’s molten, summer blue eyes focused on her and Raven’s hunger sparked and surrounded her. Clarke shifted uneasily and Raven watched her in a state of generous, mild hilarity and satisfaction. Alphas were about as predictable as Betas.

Clarke did something extraordinary then, and wouldn't even catch her eye, looking everywhere but straight on at her. Raven wonders if she’ll go one further and expose her neck and Raven wonders briefly what she would do if Clarke does. Interesting.

They sit quietly and listen to the remnants of the storm and the crackling of the fire in the wood stove.

“I don’t interest you,” Clarke finally said.

Raven sighed and put down her drink, “No one does.” She looked up at Clarke. “It’s like gathering intel with you people, isn’t it? It doesn’t even matter who it is when you’re in rut.”

Clarke looked at her with pity, and Raven’s skin almost erupts in hives she hates pity so much.

“It’s how much you can bear, Raven. That’s all it is. For me, it’s how much I can handle by just getting by.”

Raven doesn’t have to ask who Clarke’s talking about. She realized she’s irritable because of the thinness of the air in the mountains—that must be what it is—and picks up her mug again. She idly wondered if Finn made it back to the city, and even more that she doesn't care one way or the other.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the frame of the window Raven’s sitting next to. Her breathing is shallow and audible in her throat.

* * *

When Raven’s mother died she had slipped into her hospital room and held her suddenly impossibly frail body. In silence, she’d watched the morning sun rise through the slatted blinds and wash her mother clean with blood red light. And then she had let the hospice nurses clean the woman she’d disavowed years ago, and she watched them strip the sheets and go about the business of preparing the room for the next soul.

She’d held the backpack against her chest; the one piece of luggage her mother had brought with her, the one filled with the black market suppressants that eventually, inexorably killed her.

Raven thought briefly of reporting Nygel to the police and handing the whole thing over to the authorities. She took the bag and the drugs to the small, pitiful funeral and swore to herself that it would never be her. She would never allow her biology to consume her no matter what kind of agony she was in.

They took away her pain, the physical pain of her leg (this delighted her) and the emotional pain that deepened as time went on.

Being disabled takes so much from her. Being claimed by anyone was too much. The physical injury costs her a place on the Zero-G team, the suppressants made her limp disappear. She’d taken the test again, high as a fucking kite, and passed. Sinclair looks at her curiously but doesn't say anything. He doesn't say anything when her heart murmur almost washes her out of the program altogether. 

And while Raven likes to think of herself as just a mechanic, and that’s a large part of her job, she’s a Mechanical Engineer with a secondary interest in Electrical Engineering. Sinclair insists she stay because there was more  _out there_ for her, in space, than there is here down on the ground. Sinclair mildly threatens her into not giving up. So she takes the drugs, and seeks them out and relies on them to take her all the way through.

* * *

“Raven,” Abby murmurs. “I need you clear when this happens. I’m not going to take you against your will. I’m not going to force a heat on you. No one is, baby.” 

The beer and sandwiches sit on the floor next to them, untouched. And the endearment, as startling as it is familiar, hangs between them.

Abby is almost 18 years older, but Raven is smarter. Sex makes people infinitely stupid.

Abby had come back from the deli and stumbled, she had to swallow hard though unbearable pain and pleasure. She felt Raven's tidal pull of heat flaring out from almost three blocks away and hopes, prays, it was just  _someone else_. She would be able to sense Raven,  _her_ , from across a city. She finds Raven in a similar state.

Abby runs the pad of her thumb through the sudden, damp wetness of Raven’s hair, gauges an excess of visceral, potent blood streaming between Raven’s legs, and goes very quiet. Raven hasn’t been through a real heat in years. But right now, Raven is so far gone her skin glistens and her eyes can't focus when Abby takes her in her arms.

Abby, all business, breathes protective pheromones into the sensitive skin just under Raven’s ears, and calms her as best she can. Her voice is a low, liquid balm. Completely unstressed. Abby skates her teeth over Raven’s neck, breathes out a promise of completion as necessary as air.

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Abby croons, “You’re going to tell me,” her voice soothing Raven’s rising, frantic need, “what you've done to yourself?” 

Raven pulls away. Abby lets her go.

She smooths Raven’s hair behind her ear, damp and cold in the confined space and says carefully, “Baby, are you hurting?”

The concern is real. That endearment, said again in a voice that makes her run so hot, nearly causes Raven’s heart to stop. The concern and honesty she hears almost makes Raven cry.

She closes her eyes, fighting tears, fighting herself, fighting Abby. Moments pass and when she opens them again, Abby is gone.

* * *

After a few hours in the vast labyrinth of almost half a century-old wiring Raven makes her way cautiously out to the front of the space. The lights are low and Abby sits gathering her papers together and arranging them in her bag. 

Raven drops her own bag and Abby watches her approach, her expression solemn and softer than Raven has ever seen it. 

“Do you need a ride home…?” Abby’s voice trails off as Raven slowly kneels in front of her, and with a confidence that makes Abby’s head swim, Raven looks up at her. Abby sees desire and shyness in Raven’s gaze. It’s intoxicating. 

“Why does Lexa do it?” Raven asks abruptly.

“Why does she do what?”

“Of all the things she can do, why a bookstore? I mean, a coffee shop isn't far behind is it?” The eyeroll is hard.

Abby adjusts to the death-defying swerve the conversation takes and thinks for a minute.

“I’d imagine anyone in her position, with her responsibilities, would need an outlet like this. A great love. And she loves books. This is a gift to herself more than for anyone else.”

Raven nods and waves her hand vaguely, still on her knees. “She’s the least out of control or furious person I know—“ and Abby kind of snorts at that. Because she’s seen Lexa lose it.

“She can handle anything—why not a Kindle?” Raven cocks her head, and Abby is really not sure what is going on at all, except that Raven looks suddenly  _adorable_. “I love my Kindle—almost a thousand books in one.”

Abby barely hides a smile. “What would you do if you spent your whole life being in control, needing to be on display—a liaison and diplomat, never showing weakness or—“

“Abby,” Raven sighs, “I do that every day. Everyone does. This place barely makes any money.”

“But it makes people happy.” Abby adjusts her reading glasses and Raven almost loses it right there. Because, Abby in glasses—

“Lexa’s never been fully comfortable in the world, because of her... status. Books are a pleasure. A rare one.”

Raven looks skeptical. “The smell, huh?”

“Someone wrote letters to someone else because they read a passage in a book they loved.”

And then, “Haven’t you ever fucked someone in the library stacks,” Abby’s expression is slightly hilarious, an extraordinary eyebrow arches, and she looks around like she has no idea who just said that.

Raven takes a minute, breathing steadily through her nose. “Uh—“

Abby recovers like a pro. “You’re missing out.”

When Raven’s shoulders slump a little, Abby reins herself in. “I’m sorry—“

Raven rises to her feet and shifts restlessly. Raven is further away, moving away without physically leaving, toward the corner into deeper shadow. Even though Abby thinks Raven’s recoiling and might run at any sudden movement, Abby rises and takes a step in her direction.

“Raven. We never have to talk about this again. This doesn’t have to happen. We can talk about books forever.”

Raven moves away for real now. One elbow rests on the shelves, and she slides along them, as though she wants to disappear between the bookshelves where no one can find her.

It was either that or Raven was leading Abby into a place no one could find  _them_. They’re close enough now, and there is the thin light from overhead that throws them both into stark relief—they're both trembling messes and barely upright. Abby can see Raven trying to speak.

“I don’t—it’s been years since I’ve been through a heat,” Raven kind of says helplessly, almost to herself. “I mean, without the drugs.”

Abby can’t help the gasp that escapes her, “Raven, you’re mother—“

“Abby, I know. All right? I know.” Raven snarls.

Abby clamps down brutally on her instinct to tear at Raven’s throat for the implied threat. As it is, the growl that reverberates through her is enough to stagger Raven further into one of the stacks.

Raven is unmated. That’s all Abby can feel or know for a hairy few moments.

Until now, Raven’s gaze was lowered, just past Abby’s shoulder—like it was when she came in at the start of the day— but Abby’s response is unambiguous. Raven’s hit with an undeniable fever of claiming hormones and it makes her skin crawl and her core, her heart respond with desire and disgust.

Her eyes shoot up, raking over Abby's face. When she speaks again, it's with no fear and a clear challenge. Abby can only see the glitter and half-madness of the whites of her eyes.

“You know about me." Raven snaps. " _Of all people_ , you know about me—maybe Clarke, maybe Lexa, maybe they know too—why would you know anything before even I did? Who gave you the right? I don’t want this.  _You don’t want this_. So why is it there?”

She looks down and Abby waits.

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Raven spits. “You do know what I’m talking about. Tell me I’m not stupid. Tell me you know.”

Abby says, very quietly. “I do.”

Their friendship has become vague and even constrained in recent months, Raven slowly disappearing into herself, turning inwards with her physical pain, and throwing off any advice or concern Abby offered.

It’s started more than one fight between them. And each time, Raven misses Abby more and more.

The matter of fact, perfectly clinical way in which Abby acknowledges the nearly impossible draw between them makes Raven want to curl up and die. There’s no emotion in Abby’s words, no need, no desire. It’s simply a fact, like how Abby offered herself up just a few hours ago. 

She wants to tear everything apart thinking how many people Abby offers her services to. Ugh, what kind of thought is that?

Raven runs a shaking hand through her hair and takes out her ponytail,  _fucking great_. Now she knows how Wick feels. 

Abby puts her palms on her shoulders, and Raven nearly faints. Her bare hands are cool on Raven’s overheated skin. It sets Raven’s teeth on edge and she's helpless against the onslaught of Abby’s deliriously beautiful scent.

“Tone it down,” she mutters. “Abby, please. Be careful.”

Abby does what she’s told.

She smooths her hands carelessly down Raven’s chest—breathing in her richness before deliberately stepping away. Raven can damn well handle anything she throws at her right now.

“We should talk about your… pain management.” Abby says. “What you’re doing will overwhelm you. Eventually.”

She turns and is relieved to see that some color has come back to Raven’s skin, that she’s breathing normally. Abby hesitates and then gathers her things. She waits for Raven to do the same.

“You look like you’re hungry,” Raven almost snarls at how that must sound, “I mean for food. I could eat again.”

“You can always eat. That’s what I like about you. You enjoy food.” Abby laughs.

“Oh.” Raven perks up, “Is that a thing?”

Abby looks at her fondly and with a lot of exasperation. “Yes, it is. Not many people enjoy their food. Especially doctors. I’ve lived on Oreos and Ranch Doritos for days at a time.”

“That sounds kind of amazing. Let me buy you dinner."

* * *

Once outside, Abby digs for her keys and realizes that her neck is stiff from the effort of remaining focused and submerged in her own best interests.

“Keep very still.” Abby’s voice is all command, and soft. Raven pulls herself up short and obeys without thinking. They stand next to each other in the fading light of an early autumn day. 

Raven stares at her, her eyes clear. Abby can hear her deep inhalation. It is essential to remain still.

Raven steps closer and stops herself short from going down on her heels.

Instead, Abby leans forward and puts her lips against Raven’s temple. She can taste salt, seasons changing, warm sunlight—that particular slant of moonlight just out of reach, tangling in dark branches against the snow.

“You never look away,” Abby breathes out and strokes Raven’s cheek with slightly trembling fingers. “You’re the only one who never looks away.”

“Give me time, Abby. I need time.” Raven says, softly. “I’m scared. And I’m going to run.” 

“I am, too.” Abby sighs and shifts to whisper in Raven’s ear. "You can’t even imagine what I need you to do to me.” 

* * *

All she wants is pancakes for dinner.

Later she’ll distract herself; she’ll need the distractions, all of them—whatever she can think of. Later, when there is a whole history of whatever she and Abby are going to talk about. It’ll be the longest time they’ve spent together in the last month, and she already needs the equivalent of white sound, the sound of the ocean and waves breaking in the background soothing her chaotic state, to burn or bury her alarming and continuing reaction to Abby’s hand slipped easily around hers.

Because Abby is perfectly  _right_. She’s handling this whole situation with enough humor and goodwill for both of them and it makes Raven unbearably hungry. For breakfast.

Her body is in full revolt and overriding all suppressants in her system. She can block out everything, make herself absent when she works on the mechanics of a bomb, and she’s cold now because her skin keeps pumping out pheromones and strange, bright things are happening behind her eyes. So yeah, pancakes sound absolutely reasonable in this situation. There’s no way else to locate a solution that doesn’t wind up with them in bed tearing each other apart—maybe syrup and butter and a side of bacon will help.

Raven is also mortified, hormonal and teary, because Abby _almost_  lifts Raven’s hand to her mouth and ghosts her lips over Raven’s knuckles—and if she had done that, Raven would—she doesn't even know. She would accept, without question, something she has never let herself believe before. That she has power, and life and passion. She has the freedom that comes with just placing her hand in someone else’s, someone who matters in a way that’s not even articulable.

Letting Abby lead her down a few blocks to a nondescript diner because she asked for something specific to eat is beyond her comprehension. She’s asked the impossible, unattainable for her up until now, and Abby does it, no questions, and she does it eagerly.

There’s some way out of the quicksand and Raven can stop giving a shit about protecting herself all the time, and being alone, and just follow this new, extraordinary and familiar person wherever she’s going.

Abby’s formality is still there. But with her hair pulled back in a soft ponytail and her cheeks reddened from the sudden drop in temperature, with a bright blue scarf—she looks like the last thing she’ll do is mock or patronize Raven’s sudden obsession with breakfast food at 7 pm on a Wednesday night.

Raven and Abby have such a complicated history that she has no idea what her reactions are supposed to be right now. Raven makes friends wherever she goes, and Abby is the same. And no matter how much they want it to be true—they are not friends. She can't tell anyone who knows Abby, because one of her best friends is Clarke and anyone else would rather strangle her than let Abby move on from a mate who Raven now knows was at best a lover—at least, a deep companion—because it would mean giving up all of their secrets.

And here in the twilight, Raven looks at Abby and wonders how anyone could not have known that she settled for something less than she wanted.

Raven is stunned to realize how utterly alike they are. And she can’t imagine loving solitude so much that Abby would forfeit anything that called directly to her heart.

“What did you do?” Raven murmurs.

“Hm?” Abby is concentrated on getting them down the next block and into the place they agreed on for food.

Abby doesn’t smile or try to appear relaxed. What they’re now dealing with might as well be on the level of State Security. Clarke does not need this. Jake was everything to her.

Abby barely notices the change in the wild, atmospheric pressure system striding along next to her, or Raven’s sudden, jealous presumption of ownership.

Raven’s pretty shaken by the epiphany.  _What happened to you?_

* * *

"Give me a bite?"

Raven grunts and smiles at her from around a full mouth of pancake. She cuts a piece off and indicates her side of bacon and Abby nods. Raven doesn’t feed it to her because she can just handle so much right now. She chews some more and then swallows. 

“You’re not breathing, Raven,” Abby says. “You might actually taste all that if you breath.”

"I am breathing, and I could use some more coffee," Raven says because she’s already shaking with adrenaline. She might as well see if she can quell her anxiety with caffeine. It would really help if she had any idea what to do at all.

She watches Abby as she orders two more cups of coffee, and then slides one across the table to her. Abby watches her as if she isn’t someone young and all alone. It’s new and terrifying.

"What happened back there?" Abby finally asks, when Raven puts down her fork. She folds her hands together on the table and waits for an answer.

Raven falls into a haze again, maybe from the timbre of Abby’s voice. Like she’s come into the emergency room, shattered in some way, and is just now waking up two days later. It’s kind, modulated and clinical and Abby knows better than Raven does what  _happened back there_.

The question, Raven decides, is slightly sadistic. Because why do they have to talk about this.

"I forgot a cycle of shots," Raven says.

Abby puts down her cup without drinking it and glares at Raven, who barely hides a smile.

"I don’t know what happened, Abby,” Raven says, and then fiddles with some sugar packets.

"I could have you arrested,” Abby says. “I could make sure you never get your hands on that crap again.”

Raven nods absently and then says, "You could. Not sure you want me without them. There aren’t many of us left. How many have been born in the last generation?"

Abby shoots her a look. "But it’s true you could have anyone, live without the—"

Raven blinks at her a few times, appalled. "And breed? And take one, over and over and  _over_ , for the team? And who would be the lucky Alpha? All of them?"

“That’s not—“

“That’s exactly what would happen. You know that. I know that. There are already laws on the books, Abby.” Raven leans forward and lowers her voice. “I present as a Beta for a reason, Abby. There’s a reason only you and Clarke and Lexa know about me. No one’s going to farm me out—

“Raven.” Abby’s voice cuts through what’s about to become an unnecessary pissing match. If anything else is said, in the wrong tone, Abby knows Raven would walk out of here and be gone for months.

"There's a reason I take those things," Raven says, and she’s calmed again. She’s a little absent; she might as well be discussing stock prices. Which Abby supposes they are in some ways. "It's because no one,  _no one_ , is going to do to me what they did to my mother."

When Abby doesn't respond Raven cocks her head, “It would be a little like sending Alphas into fighting pits, wouldn’t it? They do that, you know. They shoot them up, turn them into raving addicts and—“

“I know, Raven.” Abby cuts her off. “I know. We’ve all been protecting you.”

“You couldn’t protect Jake.”

And Abby reacts like she’s been slapped, all the blood draining from her face.

It’s not my fault our kind is becoming extinct.” Raven hisses at her, not able to stop herself. “And I’m under no obligation to be all  _viva la raza_ about it. So fuck off with that.”

What Abby misses most about Jake was his good humor, even in the face of prejudices and myths from his own culture and the larger society, the oppressive majority, they found themselves in—simply because of a mutation. Because no one thought they had to mend a chromosome or two. She works in a hospital. She sees miracles and failures go both ways.

"When did you know?" Abby asks, her voice is a whisper.

"When I met you," Raven says. She levels Abby with a look. “When I met you,”

"But that was—"

“Almost two years ago. I read up on it. It can manifest late. Anything’s possible, right? I was a necessary lie until I met you. I was a Beta until two years ago.”

Raven shrugs and goes back to eating, swipes a napkin across her mouth making a satisfied noise. Abby can’t help her own desire, which is mockingly in reach right now. Sitting. Waiting. Impatient.

“Thousands of species die every hour, I don’t even want to think what happens during a day. We’re not that important, Abby. No one will miss us when we’re gone. See? Nothing to it.” 

* * *

They drive to Raven’s loft in silence. It’s an easier peace than either of them anticipated and it’s helped along by the heat inside the car, and the meal they just ate, and really, the whole bizarre day.

Abby pulls up to the curb and Raven makes no move to get out. Abby turns off the ignition and Raven rolls her head from where it rests on the cold window to look at her.

"About—earlier." Abby finally says because she needs to make sure Raven knows she’s still safe. That the people who love her will protect her—that they all need protecting from the population at large.

"Don't worry about it," Raven mumbles sleepily. "Today was a little different for both of us. We’re lucky we didn’t get caught. How do you hide it from your colleagues?”

Abby rolls her shoulders and stares out onto the street. “Marcus is there. So is Jaha. We’re Alpha. We learned from each other. We all had families who taught us what to do when we were young—how to shift to Beta and then finally to nearly invisible. Camouflaging isn’t hard. People see what they want to.”

"That’s ridiculous. We  _are_ talking about you, You’re one of the most dominant—"

“I do what I have to, Raven. It’s better that way. That's what I was saying about Lexa before. If and when we can organize any kind of resistance— _anything_ would be better than we have now—we’ll do that—“ Abby says, a little more viciously than she means to; mostly to stop herself from mounting Raven right there.

Abby is overwhelmed by her _own_ scent; she can't imagine what it's doing to Raven, and if she even thinks aboutwhat it’s doing to Raven she’ll—she exhales slowly through her nose and counts backward from 10. Her sudden rut reeks of seething irresponsibility—this drive to consume Raven is new and haunting. Abby is uncomfortable and anxious, and Raven knows it because she’s beginning to swallow again and again, compulsively, as saliva builds in her mouth and floods her other senses.

Abby’s jaw aches. She wants to rip her own skin off. And she can feel hot, silken arousal begin to pool between her legs. She can feel her clit lengthen and her canines sharpen.

Raven’s heat has never been like this. Nothing, none of the serums she has in her bag or stored in her house will help.

Abby’s humanity is eclipsing itself right in front of her, and it’s enthralling—there’s strength and resiliency and desire, it's furious and insane and all Abby—kind of graceful and fierce. Abby's being soaks over her, and through her. She doesn’t know who moans first. 

All this because they couldn’t agree on a radio station to listen to driving home. Maybe classical would have been good. More soothing.

Raven’s heart and body kick into overdrive again—a very primal part of her is thrilled by this display of raw power,—and she knows that Abby is drinking in her scent, even if they never mark each other at all.

Raven makes a small attempt at getting them both rational again. She tries to think of anything that would cut through her fraying sanity.

She wonders why that one kid, Louis from One Direction, looks like an anime character and how does he do his hair because it’s all sorts of cute, she wonders why Bellamy doesn’t shut the door when he’s in the bathroom and he just talks to her non-stop like it’s no big thing, she thinks of what Lexa might look like—no, that doesn’t work at all. That makes it worse. Why are all her friends so gorgeous and so unhelpful?

Abby pulls away. Her hands travel up across Raven’s cheekbones and into her hair. 

“You smell different,” Abby announces.

“Excuse me?” Raven freezes. That did it.

“You don’t—why haven’t I noticed this before. There’s something else in you.”

Raven looks at her, shaking with confusion and need. She no longer feels the ever-present disappointment and melancholy that’s been her second skin since the accident. Part of it is the drugs have a fast half-life and its been over 24 hours since she last administered them, part of it is her own, natural scent becoming stronger and most of it is Abby’s signature literally holding her up in place, like stalked prey.

Raven no longer feels any of the sadness that’s wracked her all week. She feels unhinged. She's been holding herself apart from a full, beautiful life of pleasure. Abby's known all along. 

Tonight felt a little like she was a child on an adventure. And now here they were, pretty much almost necking in a parked car like a couple of nitwit teenagers. Raven thinks that Bellamy might come out any minute and give Abby the third degree, wielding a shotgun and embarrassing the shit of her.

Raven suddenly wants to go live at the cabin full time. She could carve stupid little things out of sticks and live off the land and sell her stuff at county fairs and farmer’s markets. Nothing sounds better than that right now.

“What the fuck do you mean,  _you smell different_. Of course I do. I want to fuck the shit out of you. How can you miss that?" Her voice sounds high-pitched and strangled. She clears her throat. “And that is not the way to get in me in bed—“

“Raven. You smell like an Omega, you smell like you—but you smell like. Oh my god. You’re Sidhe.”

“Excuse me?” Raven repeats stupidly. Abby has herself entirely in check now, she’s blinking at her in awe, and Raven does some two or three hundred lightning fast quadratic equations in her head to calm herself down.

“The hell are you talking about?” She asks.

“Sidhe. The Gentry. Blessed Folk. Fair Folk. The Shining Ones. The Pure Blood—“

“I know what they are. What do you mean I  _smell_  like them?”

Raven drags her gaze away from Abby, sighs and then turns on her, her face thunderous. “You are actually blue-balling me because you think I smell like a mythical race of  _faeries_.”

Abby has the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

* * *

It's a very weird ass ending to an even stranger day, but when Raven goes to open the car door and reaches for her jacket and bag, Abby says, "Raven."

"What?"

"What—do you need me to help you?"

Raven glares at her.

“Do I need you to help me get myself off? No. Absolutely not. Thank you, though.”

"I mean—we spent the day together and we almost—we didn't kill each other, right?” Abby trips on the words and blows out a frustrated breath.

"Still a horrible fucking idea 5 seconds later. So, no."

"I just—"

"Abby—clearly being near each other does _something_ to both of us, there’s no doubt but this—?" She gestures between them, “Not a cool way to start anything by telling me I smell strange.”

“I did  _not_  say you smelled  _strange_.”

“Abby.” Raven looks up at nothing and counts backward from ten, slowly and deliberately. “Can I go?”

"You're as scared as I am. You said so before." Abby says, reaching out to touch Raven’s lips and not flinching when Raven's eyes narrow dangerously. "Don’t make me feel awful for wanting you.”

Raven says nothing and gets out of the car. Without thinking, Abby opens the door and moves intercepts her. It happens so fast that Raven can’t even track her.

"Raven, after all these years of not doing anything—"

"I told you. I don’t want this.” Raven insists, sharply.

"You do,” Abby says. “This isn’t just a heat. Or a rut. We’re both too intelligent for that. And what’s happening is  _not just that_.”

Raven cocks her head, “Maybe it is  _just that_. Biology. Maybe that’s all it is.”

Raven’s voice betrays her. It’s soft and vulnerable and questioning and Abby wants to die from the tenderness and pity in it. This is the lie she’s been telling herself over and over and again since they met. It sounds like death coming from Raven. It sounds like a loneliness she’s carried her entire life, a yearning.

"If you actually think that you deserve to numb yourself out with suppressants," Abby responds, just as softly. “then I don’t need to be standing here begging you to do anything different. Go ahead. I won’t report you.”

Abby steps around Raven and heads to the car. The trees make a pattern of moonlight and she thinks that this light, these patterns will never be the same for her again—she’s caught up in Raven’s starlight and frost.

She slips into the passenger seat and leans her head against the window and closes her eyes against the awful pull of loneliness that’s beginning to creep into her bones. She just needs to rest. She needs sleep and she needs time to stop thinking and feeling. She drifts and is vaguely aware that it’s started to rain.

She’s drawn out of numb, hurt reverie by a series of quick, short knocks on the window. Raven is standing there impatiently signaling for her to roll it down. Abby sits up and hits the button.

“Come inside. You can’t sleep out here.”

* * *

She wishes it were that simple.

Raven throws her coat and her stuff haphazardly into the corner of the entryway and motions for Abby to take off her own coat, which she treats with much more care and hangs on one of the wall pegs. Without looking to see if Abby follows she stalks down a long hallway and enters her room. Abby unwinds her scarf, takes a cursory look around at her new surroundings— and follows her. The door is open, a large net of small lights is spread behind a large queen size bed—the only light in the room—and she follows Raven and steps in, closing the door behind her.

Raven turns to face her.

“Be quiet. Bellamy is just down the hall.”

Abby, slowly, cautiously, without thinking, traces the line of Raven’s throat with her fingers. Raven heats inside, and there's a slow, painful tightening in her belly. Her body is immediately coated in pheromones. She pushes into Abby’s hand. Abby’s astonishing warmth permeates her and she moves in closer to put her ear against her chest. She listens to Abby's strong, beating heart.

“Raven.” Abby’s voice is quiet, at least an octave lower than normal and slightly strained, it has power in it—power to stop them or demand of Raven whatever she wants—and Raven lets herself relax. She lets go.

“Do you want this or not?” Raven’s question is murmured into the material of Abby's shirt, and it’s not really a question. Abby hears the impatience in it. 

It’s a joke. Raven’s insistence on pretending to push Abby through any misgivings is purely a front at this point. A perverse reversal of what’s going on between them. The desire to bare her throat is obsessive, and she glides her hands beneath Abby’s shirt over the taut curve of her stomach, just underneath the swell of her breasts and she rocks into her slowly, the exact same way Abby eased her against her body earlier at the store.

She whines softly in the back of her throat. Her hand covers Abby’s and slips it down the front of her pants, let’s Abby feel the slick wetness pooling between her thighs, soaking her.

“Yes, I do,” Abby says, watching the fear and self-loathing in Raven’s eyes war with her instincts.

“Turn around.” She commands softly. It will be easier for both of them this way.

Raven doesn’t want this, can’t do anything about it, but her blood remembers what freedom can be, and sings beneath her skin. Abby whispers in her ear, helping her recall all the ecstasy of discovering herself before the pain set in. Raven moans, her body shivering because of Abby, because of her low voice, her need.

Abby eases them down on the bed and up against the headboard with Raven settled with her back to her and restless between her legs. Abby strips Raven’s shirt off and buries her nose in her hair, the graceful curve of her neck, behind her ears. She reaches around her to palm the fullness of Raven's breasts and strokes them idly until they harden and pebble between her fingers. She licks against Raven’s skin until she quiets and calms under her tongue. Abby’s tired of the games and the sparring and the talking. She doesn’t need any of it. She has Raven in her arms. 

Sweat gathers and shimmers in the air around them, between them. Abby hums, the sound dragging another wracking shiver of pleasure across Raven's skin, already breathless and whimpering. Abby gasps because Raven's skin is slick and beautiful in the lights. She takes a hold of her chin, twists Raven's face towards her roughly and draws her up to deepen a sudden, bruising kiss. 

Raven slides her fingers down just to the apex of where her legs meet her thighs and she runs her hands through her own folds, lost in the languid, honest cresting of her body’s call. Abby watches, fascinated when Raven’s legs shift and spread.

Raven eases her fingers down, over and past Abby's hands and slides between her legs and hovers there, waiting, drowning in her already. Raven allows herself one glide of a finger, lets it twist and curl into her already overstimulated center. The heat is crashing through her body, tearing through all her senses. She's beginning to only crave Abby—it thrills her that Abby is barely controlling herself. She feels the urge to thread her fingers through hers, and talk to Abby. Just talk. Tell her everything she wants. Abby bites carefully into Raven's shoulder and spreads her fingers slowly down her chest and over her nipples. Raven's descent into species memory is steady and real, and Abby tracks her precipitous loss of inhibition. Raven's hands clench and twist through the sheets—her rational mind surrendered already. Raven’s feet stretch and flex unconsciously. She undoes her pants as Abby runs her hands over her chest and down her stomach. Raven curves the strong length of her body up into Abby’s loose grasp and opens to Abby’s strokes like a desert in a rainstorm.

Abby leans forward and releases a low, pleased rumble continuously against Raven’s back. It calms her and she sinks into Abby's embrace, drowning in sensation. 

Abby pushes at Raven’s bra patiently, easily adjusting it below her breasts so they push up. Her skin responds immediately to the cooler air of the room. Her breasts are perfect, small and Abby barely strokes them, sliding the pads of her thumb over and over her nipples, teasing the sensitive skin with the rough skim of her fingers and palms, pulling at them and pinching them so lightly Raven arches against her.

“No,” Abby says—and that one word, the way Abby says it—with affection and pure fascination at what her denial elicits—causes Raven’s silken desire to pour over between her fingers.

Abby’s refusal has Raven’s cunt and hands glistening and her fingers slide harder across her clit. She struggles helplessly, circling the tight muscles of her opening, barely fucking herself. But it’s enough. Her body is slick and desperate and covered with a flood of sex sheen, drenching them both.

Abby's other hand comes up to hold Raven's neck steady, keeping her from shifting, and she sighs as Raven flushes a dusky red all the way down her chest.

“Inside,” Abby says, biting down gently on the tip of her ear.

Raven bucks violently against her hand and lets out a strangled moan. Abby pulls her neck back, placing one hand over her pulse and swears softly against her ear. She's never been lewd. She'd imagined this would be gentle. Abby's clit hardens and distends and she wants desperately to pull slowly all up and down the length of herself and draw her pleasure out as long as possible. She wants to make sure Raven can see what she's doing to her. Torture her for it, not allow her to have all of Abby stretching her and reaching all the places she needs her most. She wants to flip Raven over and take her with her teeth buried in her neck, tasting her blood. 

“Inside, baby.” She swallows and repeats herself, “Now.”

Raven nods and breathes out a yes and slips two fingers inside, knuckle deep, and pumps slowly in and out, tensing up immediately with building pulses of the sharp, electric anguished instinct to be fucked, and she strains helplessly against the strength of Abby's arms holding her in place.

Abby rolls her body and murmurs softly into Raven’s neck. “Follow me. Follow my breath.”

Raven pauses in confusion, “I can’t—I need—“

“Slow.” Abby washes over Raven’s whole being. Abby is right there, sighing into the side of her face, her excitement and obvious arousal making Raven shiver and whine. The room is no longer cold. “Show me you can do this the way I ask you to.”

Raven’s hips follow her fingers, and she adds another one without being told. She’s too far gone to care if this is what she wants, or if she’s doing it right. It doesn’t matter. Abby’s watching her and it makes her crazy. All she needs is Abby, her body a furnace against her skin. Abby pulls and tugs at her breasts and she fucks herself because she can't do anything else.

“Let me taste you,” she begs, “I want—“ 

“No.”

Raven cries out, and Abby watches the way Raven plunges agonizingly slowly in and out of herself.

Raven’s sensitive hearing—knowing that Abby’s heart is beating with her, pacing the way she pushes and pulls at her cunt—shatters her control. She'll  do exactly what Abby tells her. Desperate to get it right for her. The sensations coursing through her body and the low, constant thread of Abby’s rough, velvet voice in her ear has her rolling her head helplessly back and forth against Abby’s chest.

“So good,” Abby murmurs. “Can you come for me?”

An unguarded sound tears out of her when Abby licks down her neck and her hands go unexpectedly gentle, a caress she can feel all the way down in her bones.

“Can you?”

Raven speeds up, her fingers plunge in and out between her thighs, she needs more than she can give herself—it makes her insane that it's not Abby inside her. That it's not Abby filling her, stretching her. She can't screw herself like she wants to. Not with Abby there to do what she can't. Hot tears of frustration and near panic gather at the corner of her eyes and Abby runs her mouth along her cheeks and through her hair.

Come spills out over her hands and pools down her thighs and spreads between them. Abby hooks her legs through Raven's and opens them even more obscenely, and bears down on her so she can't escape the twisted, wet sheets, already soaked. Raven shifts the lower half of her body and angles her hips up to meet her hand and she grips Abby’s hair for purchase. She pants and moans incoherently, insensibly repeating Abby's name over and over as she fucks herself.

Abby’s snarls break through her lust and take her over an impossible crest into a blinding orgasm. She shouts, muffled by Abby's hand clamped over her mouth. She bites at it, marking it, knowing that Abby's going to have to explain the bruises and cuts to someone tomorrow. She doesn't recognize the sounds roaring out of her and jerks against her own fingers. She arches, and finally, trembling, she flies over the edge and tastes Abby's blood in her mouth. She comes so hard she nearly passes out and closes her eyes, doubling over like she's in pain. She can hear Abby whispering, begging, demanding, “That’s it, Raven. You’re doing great. Easy, Breathe.” 

And she does. She drives herself helplessly against her hand and turns her head to take Abby’s mouth in a searing kiss, moaning, sucking at her tongue—her primal need to bond lost in incandescent, pure feeling.

She can only feel Abby’s tongue massaging her own, it's the only thing that keeps her grounded and soothed and relieved that she doesn't completely lose consciousness. Abby is drawing out the last of her aftershocks with such gentleness and delight that all she can do is laugh softly, at her stupid, completely vulnerable behavior after her muscles relax and ease and she can breathe again.

She turns in Abby’s arms without thinking and brings her glistening hand up to Abby’s mouth. Abby takes her fingers between her lips, gliding her lips and teeth and tongue over the ice and midnight snow of Raven’s come, sucking it all in deeply, savoring Raven and licking her clean.

Raven curls heavy and boneless against her and she strokes down her arms and across her chest and up into her hair, scratching at her scalp, whispering to her, letting her know how good she was, how beautiful and wild and perfect. Raven murmurs against her neck and lets Abby care for her overwrought body. She lets Abby's voice lull her into peace.

“You taste like starlight,” Abby says after a long while when she's sure Raven's asleep. “You taste like Earth.” 

And Abby slips out from under Raven, kisses her gently and covers her with the soft duvet. She pads into the kitchen and draws herself a glass of water. Then she gathers her coat, and her shoes and her bag and walks out without looking back.

* * *

Bellamy leans against Raven’s door and lifts the cup of coffee he has in his hands. She squints open an eye and mutters a “yes, please.”

He sits down next to her as she pushes up on her elbows, not at all embarrassed by her state of dishevelment or undress. They’ve seen everything of each other; it doesn’t matter now that he’s mated. He runs his hand gently through her hair and untangles it a bit.

“Company last night?” he asks. 

“You heard?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Echo’s here, we were so happy for you we got—“ He clears his throat, “Good for you, Reyes. Was it fun?

Raven doesn’t know. “Not sure you could call it fun. It was…”

“Necessary. You’re in heat.” Bell smiles against the rim of his own mug. “Been a long time, huh?”

“Yes, mom.” Raven shivers involuntarily, hard enough and with so much despair and annoyance coloring her voice that Bellamy looks at her with sincere concern. 

“You know I’m here. Echo is too. We can call Clarke and Lexa if we need to. Enough of Alpha around, a little trip to the cabin, and no one will bother you. You’ll be safe.” 

“I’m fine. I have—“

Bellamy looks at her sharply, “I know what you have. I’m just suggesting that between the four of us—and we could even get Lincoln and Octavia’s beta scents to completely throw people off—It would be nice to be up there in the mountains right now. All of us. Beautiful weather.” 

“I don’t know how this works. You’d have to leave me up there alone if it goes on longer than a few days.”

Bellamy shrugs and massages her aching leg through the sheets. “Not a problem. We can all telecommute. Wouldn’t kill us.”

He’s subtly coating her and the room, the entire apartment, with his protective mated scent, making sure Raven is masked at least for the time being—he’s marking already marked territory—and being extra careful. Even that makes Raven shift uncomfortably, sweat rolling down between her shoulder blades.

Bellamy removes his hand and winces, “It’s strong. If you weren’t you, and I wasn’t me—I’d want you.” He bares his teeth unconsciously, his face sharpening.

Raven laughs softly, “I've already had you. Send Echo in.”

Bell growls softly. Raven’s heat is hitting him hard, the idea that she would want his mate even harder.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Relax, you fucking gorilla. I was joking.” Raven’s face flushes and her words are barely audible. Her voice is low and rough with strain.

“You’re in pain. Who did this? You’ve always been careful.” Bellamy says, a little helplessly. “Who was it? Call them. It’ll take the edge off, for now. That’s all it has to be. Nothing serious. We have a good supply of contracept—”

Raven cranes her head and closes her eyes, trying to get herself under control, painfully aware of the hollow ache spreading and throbbing between her legs and all throughout her body. She slept fine, barely sated for a pitiful, few hours, exhausted at fighting off the visions and memories of Abby’s voice, her warmth, how Raven whimpered for her and begged. She shakes her head against the sound of Abby’s sharp, delicious commands soft in her ear and Bellamy withdraws completely, for both their sakes. He gives her a minute.

She was relieved when she woke up alone. She’s had precious little training in this; her mother hadn’t bothered, and she hasn’t needed to  _know_ anything with the suppressants. Whatever she’s heard or read about it pales in comparison to the hollow desperation tearing through her. She salivates when she thinks of Abby. She’s sure her pupils are completely blown. Her body is writhing despite itself. Waves of intense pleasure are rolling through her, just from where her skin touches fabric, where it touches air.

Bellamy’s fingers stroke at her again, and briefly eases the wildfire throughout her system. But it’s not enough. He thinks about calling Echo in, and she appears and sits on the opposite side of the bed. As soon as Echo’s hands move, as soon as they touch her and leave a path of calming chemical trails that seep into Raven’s skin, she’s burning again. Her arousal is hot and pure and both of her friends look at her with pity. There’s nothing either of them can do. Not even the three of them, all extremely powerful in different ways, will be enough to mask the wild stimulus choking the room, making Raven pant and whine unconsciously, and her body strain against itself. 

“Let me call someone, Raven.” Bellamy is more than slightly alarmed now, “You need help. You need an Alpha, or a Beta at the very least. Doing it yourself will only save your sanity for a few minutes. Believe me. What about Finn—?”

“Oh my god, no. Ugh. Jesus.” Raven literally wants to brain him with her heavy coffee mug for even suggesting it until she sees him smile. “You asshole.”

“Made you blink.” Echo laughs outright. 

“Ew, you dick.”

“You’re welcome.” He pats her thigh, extremely proud of himself and stands. “Clean yourself up. I’ll make breakfast.”

* * *

The cold inside Abby turns to an aching, frantic ice storm during the middle of her afternoon rounds. She’s never submitted to it, never submitted to the call of anyone else no matter how strong. She’s  _allowed_  it, breathed through it, controlled where and when and with whom she socialized so she could monitor herself and handle it. Jake had been perfect in his strength and his humor, an easy-going Omega in magnificent prime—intelligent, thoughtful, undemanding, and blissfully headstrong and unconcerned with Alpha dynamics—and she’d loved him. It had been a courtship, drawn out, gentle and adorable. This was  _not_  that. 

She never submits to her instincts, to herself, not even when the furious need of her ruts after Jake died. There’s been no one since him. And now, there’s Raven. Of all fucking people. Abby is losing her sanity over this _girl_. Nurses and doctors, orderlies and patients flinch in her presence and skid out of her way, scatter as she walks through the Unit. They cower when she leans across the Nurse’s station to grab a handful of files. She pumps out steely, bitter, angry pheromones and no one dares even look at her. Someone tries to ask her about a drug protocol and she glares at her and says, “What do  _you_ think?”

“Oh,” Whoever it is says, stupidly.

Abby nods like their exchange makes perfect sense and walks away.

Marcus corners her later. “The fuck is wrong with you? Half the staff needs smelling salts and the other half suddenly have food poisoning.” And then his eyes widen, “Oh shit, spill. Who is it?”

“Shut up, Marcus.” 

“You little  _tramp_.” He grins wider when she refuses to answer him, or look at him. “You want to rip my face off, don't you? So cute. Just tell me.”

Marcus hurts himself laughing, and Abby hits him in the nuts with her chart.

“I  _hate_  you.” She hisses. “All my patients are stable.”

“Not anymore, they’re not,” he gasps.

* * *

Abby smells her before she sees her, and then curses at herself for not recognizing the motorcycle parked just down the street when she passed it. 

She fumbles her keys, unprepared. Raven leans against a post on the porch of her house, resting her head against the cool wood. Abby cups Raven’s neck. Her hair is wet, her skin running hot and cold, clammy.

“Jesus, you’re freezing. Raven?”

“Sorry,” Raven says, slow, disoriented and slurred.

When she tries to raise her head she falls against Abby, her cheek against Abby’s neck. Her eyes are unfocused and blinking against the last of the sun—her lips wet and trembling. “I don’t—I feel—”

Raven’s breath against her skin is warm and Abby pulls her closer, instinctively protective. She looks around and doesn’t see anyone else along the street, and then Raven’s lips brush her shoulder. Raven’s pulse is erratic as hell, and she’s shivering. Abby rubs her palm up and down Raven’s back.

* * *

Raven stumbles into the mudroom, tearing at her tee shirt, desperate to get the clothing off her extremely hyper-sensitive skin. Abby hauls her through the house and up the stairs, pushes her into the shower, and turns on the water as cold as possible. She hopes it will decrease Raven’s fever and disorientation. She slips her arms under Raven’s to hold her up and steps under the cascade of freezing water, mindless of the scrubs she still wears. Raven rambles incoherently and shudders—vulnerable in her arms. 

It was easier last night, with Raven facing away, with her face buried in Raven’s hair. Raven is beautiful and there’s no way she can keep herself distant and impersonal so close to Raven’s intense, uncanny scent, her presence. She's all smooth skin and exquisitely taut muscles; her hard body rippling against her. She holds Raven’s hips and traces her hands against the hollows shadowing the insides of her hipbones—her lean abdomen tensing perceptibly against her fingers. And the touch almost throws Abby into a ferocious orgasm. Abby rears back and does the best she can to calm them both down.

* * *

Abby picks her up like she’s nothing and lays her down in her bed, naked and weak. Raven’s eyes are sharper, the deep amber irises wide with anger and embarrassment. Abby looks down involuntarily, to make sure Raven’s fine—it’s a doctor’s instinct—and then she passionately wishes she hadn’t looked anywhere.

“It hurts.”

“I know,” Abby murmurs. She drags her eyes away from Raven and focuses just above her head, at the wall, covering her and being very careful to avoid touching her any more than she has to.

Abby’s urge to safeguard Raven, to take her for her own and rip every last Alpha’s throat out within a fifty mile radius is maddening and futile and ridiculous since yesterday—and if she’s honest—it’s driven her towards Raven since they met. She can feel whatever tatters are left of her pride fraying around her. Abby hears the defenseless anguish in Raven’s voice and tumbles into delirious resignation.

“I’m sorry.” Raven says, bitterly. “I need you. I can’t do this alone.”

Abby takes a deep breath, “You expect me to—?” 

“I don’t  _expect_ anything from you.” Raven grits her teeth, baring them at Abby, “I  _need_  you to do this. My scent is too strong—it’s too dangerous. I’m going away tomorrow, to the mountains but—”

“You’re not safe until then, okay. I know.”

Just like last night, Abby traces the pulse of Raven’s throat, disarming both of them with her touch. With one touch she's destroying her own hesitance and practical knowledge of how a heat works, how she can safely—and without bonding to her—lead Raven through it and calm her. The hope is to even her out, coat her with her Alpha scent and ease her through a very dangerous few days, maybe weeks. She wants desperately to step away, because the rising animal in her knows that she’s kidding herself. There’s nothing impersonal about this.

* * *

Raven falls apart. Her breath pours from her in sharp, hard pants. The urge to bare her neck is thrilling and despicable. Raven whines softly in the back of her throat, destroying any illusion that what she wants is strictly care. 

Abby rumbles, wary and uneasy, grabbing Raven’s jaws with her fingers, and hooking her thumb inside the corner of her mouth. She forces Raven's mouth open and her head back.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Abby says, deadly soft.

Raven bucks against Abby’s center, violently, her eyes blazing. “You started this. This is your fucking problem.”

Raven draws her tongue along Abby’s jaw, drinking in her sheen of scent.

“I hate you.” Raven snarls, growling a challenge at her.

“I know.”

* * *

Rough, ungentle hands push the hair out of Raven’s face. Abby allows Raven to touch her as she strips off her wet scrub shirt. Gold in Raven’s dark eyes call to her. Raven glows with hunger. Abby unfurls her legs out from under her, from where she sits next to Raven half straddling her, and tells Raven to touch herself.

“No.” Raven says, her voice biting and sharp, her need riding her roughly. “This time you do it. Your hands.”

Abby absorbs Raven’s unsettled mood and her taste through her skin and perversely wants to test Raven, push her. She’s wound so tight she might come from Raven just breathing on her. Raven looks worn out, weak with raging hormonal shifts, and she's spooked. Abby would even welcome a fight if that’s what they needed to do to work this all out, make them feel like they have some control over anything that’s happening. They don’t. The only thing Abby absolutely can’t do is join with her, or knot her. That’s out of the question. It would be a disaster.

Everything is just a little too much right now, and Raven won’t help her with this. Abby realizes that Raven does want to fight her—someone who is real and right in front of her. No more viciously unethical experiments and the ever-present frightening possibilities of being dragged into a lab, tested, used—just because her biology is rare, potentially worth fortunes—no more shadows threatening to take her against her will. The reasons why she escapes into the cocooning dream of the drugs she uses to numb herself and her body’s intense instincts. She knows Abby, likes her—it’ll be easy to tear her apart. Raven will be able to put a face to the predator. Afterward.

“How’s your leg?” Abby asks softly, her tone is easy, and calms their shared rising turmoil. She’s clearly going to avoid whatever fight Raven is planning, and Raven sits back, off-track, stunned and disappointed.

“Uhm, healed. It’s… fine?” Raven answers, flummoxed, the reality dawning on her. “Why is it healed?”

“Stand up?”

Raven does.

“Oh my god.”

“Walk, honey.” Abby murmurs.

Raven complies. And then sits down just as quickly, all the color drains out of her face. Her leg is strong, solid. Working. Abby slips her glasses back on and begins a gentle and thorough examination of Raven’s leg. She turns her and runs her hands over where the incision  _used to be_  from the unanesthetized surgery. Gone. She goes through motions again one more time, just to be sure, ignoring Raven’s impatience.

Raven smiles and snorts at the same time. “You’ve checked me twice.” She snaps the waistband of Abby's scrub pants, raising her eyebrows. She feels fantastic, fantastic and strung out.

“I know.” Abby gently tugs Raven closer. “This is surreal for me, too.” The last part is to herself, but Raven hears her say it.

“Just stay here. I need to get my med-kit.” Abby says. “Your heat is a natural healing process, someone must have told you that? But I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

They don’t need to talk about what happened to her leg. She was attacked and experimented on for being an Omega. Abby had operated on her when they'd found her dumped by the side of a country road. They’ve never talked about it.

Raven holds Abby’s hand. “I’m okay.”

Abby looks at her. “I need to be absolutely sure.”

Abby lifts the covers and holds them up until Raven, after glaring at her, climbs under them. And Abby can’t look away. She’s seen Raven in her underwear before—she's seen people naked before. She’s managed for years to ignore what she feels for Raven, but something about tonight isn’t allowing her to do that anymore. She could lose her—

The energy pouring off Raven is different, and it changed within seconds of realizing her leg was functional again. There is very little confusion or distress; she’s exultant. Abby runs her hands down Raven’s stomach. She can feel small tremors as Raven responds to her touch.

“My leg’s still sore but—“

“I know.” Abby smooths her hands over Raven’s skin, palpating it mildly.

“Okay. Ow.”

“Lean back,” Abby says, still searching for some sign that what was obviously happening right in front of her isn’t true. Raven’s leg is nearly what it had been when they first met before she was attacked. The muscles clearly still ache but the healing, on the surface, is phenomenal—and it’s real. She can’t figure it out. She almost doesn’t want to. She wants to deal with facts, not speculation.

“Just let it be, Abby,” Raven says. “Unless you’d rather I was still a cripple?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Abby snaps. Then she leans down and kisses her forehead in silent apology. Her hand rests just above Raven’s heart. “Stay here. Sleep. We can wait to figure this out later tonight when you’ve had some rest.”

Abby is naturally affectionate. It drives Raven up the fucking wall. Anytime Abby touches her lately her insane crush just— _fuck. It’s not even about her heat._ She draws back helplessly on the bed. There is nowhere to go and Abby’s hand doesn’t move. Raven tries to think of anything else she can do to gain some control over herself. Starting a fight seems reasonable again, she should do that. 

Abby’s innate authority and competence is an insane turn-on and it makes Raven seethe. Raven admitted that to herself a long time ago. She kind of had to just live with it up until now, when all of this was a fantasy, a mirage.

The first thing she’d noticed about Abby was her heart; the second thing she noticed was her compassion. The third thing she noticed was her own unbelievably heated physical reaction to her anytime she was anywhere near her. With Abby’s hands on her last night, her breath and desire in her ear, she felt a whisper of hope. She wanted to stay on her knees, take Abby all the way into her mouth, worship her. She did everything Abby wanted of her. And then she’d kicked her own ass this morning and got over it, laughed with Bellamy and Echo about it. Refused to tell them who it was. Because Abby Griffin was off fucking limits in a big way; Clarke would annihilate her.

Abby might annihilate her. Either way.

And really, sex was like the last thing on Raven’s mind most of the time. It couldn’t be a part of her life. She didn’t want it to be. 

What Abby was doing, going through the motions of a full physical, wasn’t new, either. Raven responded to her in a way she’d managed to get under control before now. She’d taken up yoga.

“Abby? I’m serious. Was it more comfortable for you when I was injured?”

“Raven, I will destroy your leg myself if you suggest that again,” Abby says mildly.

“K.” Raven grabs Abby’s hand and draws it down slowly until it rests against her stomach. “I don’t think this heat is natural.”

Abby runs slow circles over Raven’s belly, up under her ribcage and back down along her waist, relaxing her. Calming both of them, and lulling Raven into a pleasant haze of mild arousal.  _She isn’t even aware of what she’s doing. It’s just who she is_ , Raven thinks.

“It is natural.” Abby smiles, “it’s beautiful and completely  _you_. You’ve been missing out. No one will attack you ever again.”

Raven stiffens and tries to pull away. She doesn’t want to talk about being helpless, restrained, used like cattle. She finally relents, “The heat makes me wild. I feel like a kid, you know?”

Abby nods, “I do know.”

Clarke, Abby and Raven once walked down to the beach, just below the cliffs and they’d watched a hurricane come in. They’d stood there for an hour, letting something beyond their control do with them what it could. It had been exhilarating, dangerous. Life-altering.

“I do know how you feel. It’s—” Abby doesn’t finish her thought as she gently extracts her hand from Raven’s grip, and she continues to stroke Raven’s body.

“Oh.” Raven shivers.  _God, Abby._  

“You feel wonderful,” Abby says, quietly. Abby stops the movement of her hand and braces her arms on either side of Raven’s shoulders. She leans over her. They watch each other for a few long moments.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Abby asks.

“If you check me over again and keep pretending you’re being professional,  _I_  might kill  _you_ ,” Raven whispers. “I’m an animal right now, or whatever. I can do that.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Abby says again.

Raven rubs her palm over her eyes and waits.

Abby shifts again, positioning her lower body between Raven’s legs in one strong, fluid movement, and Raven draws in a sharp, surprised breath.

“I need this too. I need to make sure—”

“That you’re alive? Real? You are.” Raven’s smile is soft, understanding. “I know I am. You’re making me crazy.”

“Good.” Abby closes her eyes briefly and settles her body over Raven’s. The feeling is indescribable. Raven’s hips shift and she opens herself as Abby stretches out. She draws her arms around Abby’s neck and then traces her hand down the center of Abby’s chest and skims her fingers underneath the edge of Abby’s breasts, running her other hand back up along her spine and through the fine hairs at the back of her neck. This is nice. Slow. They’re talking. This is not impossible and awkward. No one is flipping out. 

Abby reaches between them to undo the ties on her scrub pants and bring her hips flush against Raven’s center. Raven almost loses her mind, then. Abby raises up on her knees and runs her hands over Raven’s chest, her abdomen and between her legs. Raven helps her undo her bra. She slips down the straps and draws them over Abby’s shoulders.

“Don’t move.” Abby says, her voice sounds tight, barely controlled, “I want you to watch me.”

Abby reaches around and undoes the clasp and lets the fabric fall just enough so that the tops of her breast and her nipples are exposed, just like she’d done with Raven last night, and they pebble as Raven watches, and she aches.

With a nod, Abby allows Raven to run her thumbs just past her nipples, not directly over them, never quite touching them and Abby’s hips move in the rhythm Raven sets as she swipes over the same spot again and again. Raven’s hands are warm and calloused. The roughness never quite gives Abby the satisfaction she wants.

“Like that,” Abby whispers.

“You need to apologize,” Raven says, settling back. Raven is not at all willing to stop the very obvious effect her hands have on Abby, the way her body responds is exhilarating. She sees the slight flush appearing across Abby’s chest. Abby’s satisfaction is obvious and blinding and it is the best thing Raven has ever felt. She is in so much trouble.  

“Apologize for what?” Abby asks, quietly.  

“For waiting this long. You’ve made me wait years.” Raven says, going for casual. Which is complete bullshit? She is anything but casual. She might faint.

Abby doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t protest, and then she grasps Raven’s hands and makes sure that Raven’s thumbs and fingers finally circle her nipples and tug lightly at them. Raven, about to say something else, gasps at Abby’s immediate and undeniable response, she feels it on her stomach and thighs and she shuts up. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Abby says, her eyes half open, and glittering in the light of the bedside lamp—after a long few minutes of falling deeper and deeper into electric, ungentle arousal—and she desperately tries not to come as Raven plays with her, swipes her thumbs over the hardened tips, molding them in her palms gently and then more roughly. Abby’s smell is musk and summer, it smells like midnight and earth. 

Abby looks down at Raven, through soft gasps and smiles genuinely, “I do want you.” 

Abby eases herself down; Raven never stops her thumbs flicking lightly over and over and so she can bring her mouth up to taste one nipple and then the other with her tongue and lips—smooth, warm and slow. Abby shudders and moans against her ear and the pace of her hips speeds up. Raven lets one hand slip between them and strokes her into fullness. Abby's lengthening clit pulses against her hand and she runs her thumb over the sensitive tip, mimics the same movement with her tongue, flicking and biting, and Abby gasps and jerks into her.

Raven’s hand shifts to the small of Abby’s back and Abby whines at the loss of contact. Raven pushes Abby back so she can continue sucking Abby’s breasts and cup her ass at the same time. Abby reaches down and wipes at Raven’s eyes with the pad of her thumb; the look on her face soft and solemn. Raven had no idea she was crying.

Abby pauses, and she sits up again and kneels next to her. She cups Raven's face with one hand before drawing Raven’s hand into hers and wrapping both their fingers around her and they pump her length slowly, patiently.

“Abby—” Raven manages, not sure what she can do anymore to stop a really embarrassing spontaneous orgasm. Abby hasn’t even really touched her yet. Abby kisses her, her tongue running gently across her lips, asking silently for permission to deepen what has been, up until now, just exploration. Abby releases Raven's hand and settles over her, her arms holding her up so she can see Raven’s eyes. Abby knows how hair-trigger she is because amusement flashes across her face—and she loves it—

“Not yet, Raven. Let me.” Abby says into her ear. “Let me wait, okay?”

“Hard. I need you fast.”  Raven asks for it and then she shuts up abruptly, mortified at herself for—

But Abby just makes an approving, loving sound and Raven loses focus when Abby slides her teeth and tongue down her neck and back up across her jawline. Abby sighs out her approval and pulls back a little to watch Raven unravel. Abby rolls her hips and groans deeply in her chest, growls, as she feels her pre-cum coat Raven's hand and drip down against her thighs. Raven’s irises expand, and she strokes Abby in the same, slow, unhurried pace she's set until Abby is straining against Raven’s contracting, eager outer lips.

“Please,” Raven gasps, unable to stop herself. Abby arches down, their skin slick with sweat and pheromones and the tips of their nipples slide together, and Raven moans, losing her grasp on reality while Abby’s pulse trips wildly against hers.

Raven whispers, unaware she's even speaking, and coaxes Abby forward and wraps her fingers fully around Abby's clit, caressing the entire length of it, and startles when she opens her eyes to see Abby staring at her with a look of intense concentration. Raven pauses and runs her other hand through Abby’s hair. Abby’s holding herself up, trembling, vulnerable and focused simply on her and Raven continues stroking again after a few moments and just watches Abby’s responses, the way her face tightens and relaxes. The way her eyes widen and bore into her, pinning her down.

Abby keeps holding herself above Raven on trembling arms. She drops her forehead to Raven’s shoulder, and thrusts forward, with an endearing loss of control, into Raven’s palm. Raven’s legs spread underneath Abby’s powerful, strengthening movements.

“Do it,” Raven says.

Abby stills over her, her expression serious and careful again. A drop of sweat drips down her cheek and onto her lip. Raven cranes up to catch it on her tongue.

“Please,” Raven whispers. 

Abby leans her forehead against Raven's and they hold themselves suspended for who knows how long, breathing in each other’s air.

Abby finally, with a long helpless groan enters her in one, slow, full stroke. Raven trembles around her thick length, barely able to manage herself or her response and Abby waits, letting Raven get used to the stretch despite how crazy she is to fuck her, how Raven's wetness floods over Abby's shaft and down both of their legs.

“Oh,” Raven gasps. Abby bites down not so gently on her lower lip, drawing blood, waiting.

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” Raven whispers. “What are you—?”

Abby’s warm, wet tongue skates just past the corner of Raven’s mouth, and her body utterly betrays her, and she growls and yelps and she  _comes_. She comes, her inner walls and muscles fluttering around Abby’s thickness hard and fast, surprising both of them. She  _literally_  sees stars and loses the ability to speak for a few moments after.

When she comes back to herself a little bit, Abby looks delighted and smug. And she shifts her hips into Raven again, gently.

“Yes,” Raven says, looking up at her briefly. Raven still can’t speak in anything resembling coherent sentences.

Abby tangles her hand through Raven’s hair and watches her, and she repeats what Raven said before, to make sure. "Hard. You want it hard.”

Abby doesn’t wait for an answer—brushing her tongue again just past, but not on the underside of her breast, a place Abby discovers is incredibly sensitive for both of them. 

She nods against Abby’s neck, and Abby surges against her, lets loose, as deep as she can go. The ache to be filled and fucked is unreal. She hears herself almost howling in grateful satisfaction.

Abby's laughing softly, murmuring nonsense. Raven’s mind literally overloads with too much pleasure and blanks, but then Abby's’s mouth is covering hers, soft and reassuring all at once, and she focuses on that kiss until her hands finally gently follow the curve of Abby's shoulder and come to rest. She thinks weakly that she might be hanging on for dear life. 

“Oh, Jesus. Raven,” Abby stills again and pants above her. Sweat covers Raven's chest and neck and Abby draws her tongue over the salt. She slants her head and pulls her up and towards her and kisses her. The kiss is slow and gentle, despite how frantic they are, they taste themselves on the other one, and wonder why they waited so long. They kiss as softly as they can and ease each other into an unbelievable state of helplessness. 

Abby barely glides through her for long, hazy minutes until she's trembling again. Raven exposes her neck unconsciously. Abby pauses once more and then strokes right through Raven’s hot, slick folds; harder and faster, brutally. Raven tightens and flinches, pushes against Abby defensively without knowing it, at the still unfamiliar feeling of being thrown down and taken. Abby gauges her carefully for any signs that she's panicking, but she's not.

Abby stares down at her, her light caramel, astonishing eyes challenging. She holds herself back and tries desperately not to thrust Raven through the bed, Raven's pussy tightens around her sex and Abby gathers Raven's wrists above her head in one hand and circles her neck with the other—when Raven helps, moves against her, barely needing to—both of them to growl and curse and ache at the slightest movement—it's with just enough intent that Abby can’t mistake Raven’s responses. She loves the restraint. Her pulse is wild and thready. Raven sighs. it feels wonderful to be held and restrained and she shouts in surprise and relief as Abby hits her upper, sensitive wall every time and the deepest part of her when she strokes back in.

Raven doesn’t even recognize herself anymore. The sounds she makes are high and desperate, her mouth buried in Abby’s chest, digging her teeth in and biting at her. Abby whispers anything and everything she thinks of, everything she’s wanted to tell Raven since they met. She’s reasonably sure neither will remember anything clearly, afterward. 

Raven surges up, opens her legs wider—her legs spreading and wrapping themselves around Abby’s waist—and she arches up against Abby and against the hand around her wrists holding her still, and begs Abby to let her touch any part of her she can reach.  _Oh my god._

“Do it,” she says fiercely, when she's exhausted and spent because it's driving her crazy that she can't touch Abby and Abby kisses her, her tongue stroking her mouth and she fucks her again and again, curving upwards—finally letting Raven's wrists go with a murmured  _good girl_  and letting her slide her thumb rhythmically over her hardened, oversensitive clit in time with her. This is exactly what Raven wanted. She wants it rough and unsentimental and Abby surprises her and breaks her heart a little every time she buries herself in her.

Abby, wraps her hand around Raven’s neck, gently, in direct contrast to how hard they're fucking, licks between her breasts and sucks in one of her nipples and the sound that Raven makes almost sends her over. Abby’s so close to coming she pushes herself up and off Raven’s body for the countless time. Raven can only feel her tongue and extruded clit, where they touch her. An amazing radiating heat expands out from those two points, staggering both of them. Raven finds Abby's mouth. It's a wildly uncoordinated kiss. 

The kiss is so sloppy and amateurish and lewd she starts laughing. It deepens into sweetness, surrender, and assurance all at once. They kiss through the whole thing, their tongues sliding together and Abby’s teeth bite down on Raven’s tongue and she sucks on it, tastes blood again, and causes just enough pain that Raven feels herself become even more impossibly wet and Abby won’t let up. 

Raven finds another, hidden way to open herself completely and she lets Abby set an easier pace, slower—one where the drag of Abby's width leaves her unbearably lonely when she pulls out and wonderfully full when she strokes back inside her. 

“Wait. Baby.” Raven murmurs and Abby stops, fully buried inside Raven. “Don’t move.”

Raven closes her eyes, dropping her head back against the pillows. Raven is stunning at any other time, but she looks otherworldly when she breaks apart, her soft hair falls around her shoulders and over her face. Abby brushes a few strands away from her eyes and kisses her—this time lovingly, a little bit shyly, with more feeling than she knows what to do with. 

Raven rocks up against her again, and Raven’s cunt flutters around her, wet with a silken flood of come. Raven moans and lets loose a string of low curses. They might kill each other.

Hilariously, they lose their rhythms again almost immediately, sliding up against each other like over-stimulated teenagers. Somehow Raven manages to slip two fingers into Abby’s mouth and Abby sucks at them, tasting her. Wide-eyed, Raven draws them in and out, fucking Abby’s mouth and then she wipes them all over Abby’s lips so she can taste everything.

When Abby comes the first time she's surprised and  _happy_ and something else Raven doesn't dare name yet. Raven takes one look at her and falls over the edge seconds later. She isn’t even embarrassed anymore. Seriously, fuck that. 

Afterward, Raven  _really_  can’t talk at all. Instead, she slips down Abby’s body and takes her into her mouth and brings her to a gentle, easy and lovely last time, before she passes out.

Abby can’t really move either and rests her head against Raven’s shoulder, dozing and murmuring quiet, satisfied sounds in the back of her throat, stroking through her cunt gently, until Raven blinks in surprise when Abby gets out of bed and leaves. What is even going on? Is she— _what the fuck?_

She kind of panics, but really can’t find the energy because her brain melted a long time ago, and when Abby returns a few minutes later with a glass of water, Raven feels stupid. Where would Abby even go naked? It’s her house.

“Hey,” Abby says.

Raven turns on her side and lets Abby slip back in, “Hi.” 

She cups Abby’s cheek and draws the pad of her thumb down from her temple to the pulse point of her neck, the smooth, flushed skin glowing under her touch. Abby feels wonderful. Raven draws her in closer and Abby rests against her, running her fingers absently back and forth over Raven’s chest.

“That felt like a spacewalk,” Raven says.

“MMm?” Abby’s voice is sleepy and warm, a vibration just below Raven’s heart. Raven swallows against a growing constriction in her throat. She won’t cry again.

“I’ve never  _loved_  sex, never needed it. Didn't want to. because of—“ Raven says,  _until now_. “It’s always been good for me. Sex, you know? I’ve been lucky, I guess, I at least  _liked_  everyone I’ve slept with, but I never loved it—It’s fun. But I live up here.” She taps vaguely at her temple.

Abby turns in her arms to prop herself up and she leans over Raven. She runs her thumb along Raven’s bottom lip, kisses her. 

Raven sits up a little and plucks at the edge of the quilt, “I may never experience a spacewalk again. They don’t take cripples into the space program. After I was abducted, Sinclair grounded me. I could learn how to ride a horse? I could drive around in one of my jeeps…” she trails off, the sadness in her voice sounds like it crushes her, and she can’t look at Abby. She doesn't see her watching her with the softest expression. She can’t bear pity.

Raven remains quiet for a long time. Abby draws a strand of Raven’s hair between her thumb and forefinger. She turns to face her when she has some control over her emotions and kisses her again, this time to just to comfort her.

“When I was out there, that’s a powerful experience. The NASA program was amazing. I saw the Earth in the simulation, and I had one small tether holding me to the Space Station. The VR tech is so unbelievably precise. I didn’t even know you then, you were just a woman more powerful than I was, more powerful than anyone, a doctor in one of the other Research units, and we passed one another sometimes in the halls or in the—I don’t know, you never looked at me, and I hated all of you, all your unilateral decisions, all your charters, and laws. I hated your military and class hierarchies and all of that shit— but when I was out  _there—even in the stimulation—_  I loved everyone. I was free. I can’t explain it except that I had a real feeling of love for  _all_  of you.”

“Even Kane?” Abby laughs softly.

“He was an asshole then, wasn’t he?” Raven smiles and kisses the side of Abby’s mouth.

“So was I,” Abby says.

“Monty and I talked about it sometimes. It was like the molecules in my body, and the molecules in everyone had been made in the ancient generation of stars we otherwise take for granted. Older than the first signs of life on Earth. It would take me a few days sitting with Sinclair and building useful shit out of practically nothing to ground myself. And then I would go back out—” 

“I can’t fall in love with you, Raven,” Abby says, putting a stop to it. She tries to be as easy as possible about it, like her world didn't just twist itself into something so completely—because it’s so unbelievably good. Raven blushes and looks down at her hands, realizing what  _she_  sounds like—

“I’m talking way too much. Will you say something?” Raven says, shaking. “No. Don’t say anything. Uhm. I’m starving. Can we go make something to eat?”

* * *

The light in the kitchen is only marginally better than anywhere else in the house and Abby, after staring blankly at Raven in an old pair of borrowed sweatpants and a ratty tee-shirt that hug every curve and plane of her in a really uncalled for way, forgets to ask Raven what she wants and begins to make them sandwiches.

Raven fucks around with the coffee maker and refuses to look at Abby.

Abby rolls her head back and stares at the ceiling like it will tell her what to say. She has to fix this before it gets very bad—worse than it already is.

“Raven, that came out really wrong. What I said upstairs—”

“No worries, Abby. I get it. You helped me out.”

Abby puts the mayonnaise down as gently as she can (or she'll hurl it at Raven), lowers her head, and asks the simplest thing. The practical thing, because she has to get them away from the place where they both hurt.

“You’re on some kind of contraception, yes?” She already knows the answer to that question, she can smell it deep inside Raven's scent. She asks it so she can be the asshole. This has to be easy for Raven, she has to let her go.

“Yes.” Raven doesn’t even look at her, she just stares out into the backyard.

Once Abby gets herself under control she comes up behind Raven and leans into her. She wraps her arms around Raven and puts her mouth against Raven’s ear.

“I meant that I  _can’t lose you_. I can’t do this again. I loved Jake and I killed Jake. It was my fault.” Abby rocks Raven gently in her arms and tries desperately to telegraph her care, her admiration, and her desire through her touch. But she’s scared. She gets dizzy when she thinks about it. Raven slumps against the refrigerator and just runs her hand through her hair and accepts the sandwich without a word.

* * *

Everyone at the hospital is very relieved the next day. Across town, Bellamy and Echo breathe easy, too.

“I’m glad you two worked it out.” Marcus hands her a cup of coffee in the break room.

Abby just stares at him and then walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't Own. Not for Profit.


End file.
